Marry Ex's Billionaire Uncle After Divorce (Aurora and Jasper) novel Chapter 160

Chapter 125: Heartbeat

(Author’s POV)

When Phineas came downstairs, everyone in the room looked up at once.

Aurora felt the awkwardness settle over her like a second skin. She was the last one to have figured it out, yet somehow that made her the most informed person in the room. She was already starting to worry, quietly and with some discomfort, about what it meant to know something this private about her employer.

Professor Walsh’s expression carried a faint, suppressed sadness. A man like that, he was thinking. All that capability and presence, and then something like this.

Eleanor’s eyes were a different thing entirely. She looked at Daniel the moment he cleared the last step, and she said his name – quietly, almost carefully, the way you’d address someone holding a verdict. Daniel gave a small cough. He clasped his hands in front of him and said, with the measured calm of a man who had done this before, “Things look manageable. There’s no need for excessive concern.”

That was all he said.

It was enough. Eleanor’s shoulders dropped a fraction. The tightness around her mouth eased. As long as there was something to be done – however long it took – she could work with that.

Daniel had intended to leave after the examination, but Professor Walsh was already steering him toward the dining room with the cheerful insistence of someone who would not take no for an answer. Daniel glanced at the door, calculated his options, and stayed.

He chose a seat at the far end of the table, angled slightly away from Phineas.

Aurora settled beside Mrs. Walsh without making a production of it. Phineas sat across from her, his expression composed. Eleanor took the chair between her son and Daniel, and Professor Walsh brought the food out from the kitchen.

The centerpiece was a herb–roasted chicken – golden and fragrant with rosemary and thyme – flanked by loaded baked potatoes and a green salad. Mrs. Walsh poured the wine. The conversation found its footing slowly, the way it does when a table full of people are all being slightly careful with each other.

Aurora mostly listened. When someone addressed her directly, she smiled and answered. When the table fell quiet, she didn’t rush to fill it.

Professor Walsh, somewhere between the salad and the chicken, turned the conversation toward Phineas. He mentioned the elevator incident – the asthma attack, the quick thinking of whoever had happened to be there.

“Whoever it was,” Professor Walsh said, “they probably had no idea who they were helping. Imagine finding

out later.”

Claims

Eleanor glanced at Phineas. Phineas glanced back.

Neither of them said anything.

Aurora kept her eyes on her plate and took a bite of potato.

After dinner, Eleanor suggested a walk to the lake park nearby. Her tone was light, her reasoning impeccable good weather, good company, no reason not to.

Aurora started to form a polite excuse. Then Mrs. Walsh said she’d been wanting to get some fresh air all afternoon, and the excuse dissolved before Aurora could use it.

They walked.

At the park, the older adults claimed the folding chairs that someone had thought to bring and arranged themselves around a chess set with the efficiency of people who had been planning this. Eleanor passed Phineas on her way to her chair and gave him a look – brief, pointed, unmistakable. *I’ve done my part. The

rest is yours.*

Phineas watched her go. He thought, not for the first time, that telling his mother about his condition had been one of the better decisions he’d made in recent years. It had given her exactly the kind of project she needed – and had conveniently redirected all of her energy toward getting him and Aurora into the same vicinity as often as possible.

He’d been in worse situations.

Eleanor’s voice carried across the grass. “Phineas, take Aurora out on the water. The boats are just down

there.”

Aurora looked at the folding chairs. Every single one was occupied.

She looked at the dock.

She looked at Phineas.

He gestured toward the dock with one hand. “After you.”

The boat was a simple wooden rowboat, steady enough. Aurora put on the life vest without being asked and sat down facing him, spine straight, hands folded in her lap, her entire posture communicating that she was prepared for a natural disaster.

Phineas picked up the oars and started rowing. He watched her for a moment.

“You can relax,” he said. “I’m not going to tip the boat.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“You look like you’re bracing for a crash landing.”

She shot him a look. Then, after a beat, she let her shoulders drop – just slightly, just enough to acknowledge the point without conceding it entirely.

The lake was quiet. The oars moved through the water with a low, rhythmic sound.

“How’s Jasper’s fundraising going?” Phineas asked.

“He transferred part of it. Not all.”

Phineas made a sound – short, dry. “He can’t even pull together the full amount. Pathetic.”

Aurora pressed her lips together. Then she laughed, a short, genuine burst of it. “Honestly? Watching him scramble for it has been the most satisfying part of this whole thing.”

“I imagine it has.”

The laughter faded. The water moved under them.